


Remember Me, I'm A Killer

by BreakingEverySingleHeartButOne



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Hamilton References, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Relationship(s), Slow Burn, Stucky - Freeform, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-06-06 03:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6735994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakingEverySingleHeartButOne/pseuds/BreakingEverySingleHeartButOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After walking away from the battle with Tony at end of Captain America: Civil War, Bucky wakes up in a hospital with an unconscious Steve by his side. However, when Steve wakes up, not everything will be the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first Stucky fic! I'm really enjoying writing this :) If you can spot the Hamilton references I will love you forever!

It was the harsh beeping of the world around him that shook Bucky from the darkness that had consumed him. It was as though he had been drowning; the weight of the world had finally been enough to drag him to the depths of his ruined mind. Perhaps it would be better to stay in the shadows where he was safe in the knowledge that he could never harm anyone again, but sadly reality intruded to haul him back to the light. The shadowed nightmares of his past broke to reveal the blindingly stark walls of a hospital room where machines buzzed and beeped just to keep life and limb together - too bad they’d failed that back in 1944. _And again now,_ he thought, as he glanced at where his cybernetic arm used to be.

Suddenly, almost unbearable pain washed over him, threatening to drag him back under, until his frantic eyes came to rest on the form in the bed beside him. Somehow, Steve still managed to look so peaceful, despite the bloody bandages that covered his forehead. The past couple of days had come and gone in a non-stop blur, and only now was he noticing the room in which he now found himself. The man, who only yesterday had been trying to kill him, was now lingering over his bed, as a flurry of nurses and doctors hummed around him. T'Challa’s ever-looming face presented his consistent look of disgust he seemed to carry as his eyes met Bucky’s.

“So, the Winter Soldier has finally awoken from hibernation,” said T’Challa, his words dripping like honey from his smirking lips. “I see your friend hasn’t decided to join us..?”  
“How is he?” asked Bucky in a gravelly tone, feeling almost nauseous at the thought of a response. His eyes returned Steve in the bed beside his own, as their last fight with Stark rattled around in his brain.  
“After Stark went down, he tried to help you but he was not strong enough,” T’Challa replied. “I brought you both here to keep you safe. And alive, may I add.”  
“And where exactly is here?” Bucky queried, his voice ladened with pain.  
“Wakanda, but of course. You two _are_ fugitives, are you not?” was the reply paired with a small grin that, in a way, seemed almost sad. “Now that I am King at my fathers’ passing,” Bucky noted the slight pause that was nearly unnoticeable, “I believe my company seems the safest at this time.” T’Challa concluded, before striding across to stand in-between Bucky and the still-unconscious Steve.  
Bucky let out a soft huff at the thought of being stuck with the royal pain in the ass that, actually, happened to be royal. Although there was no way he’d show it, he could not deny his gratitude.

Bucky probably should have spared a thought to the state in which they had left Stark but that man was not his friend, and _his_ friend needed him, perhaps more than he realised at that moment. Perhaps more that he had ever realised. The last thing that Bucky had expected was for Steve to find him after the bombing in Vienna. Bucky had seen his face plastered over the news, not that anyone would believe that, for once, the blood wasn’t on his hands. After everything that they had been through, he wouldn’t have been surprised if his friend had decided that enough was enough. _Friend?_ whispered his subconscious. _Or something more?_

It’s always been simpler for Bucky to just forget everything that had happened after 1944. It’s easier to bear, if he could pretend that it was all a twisted nightmare plaguing the Hell that he had travelled to after his fall. He found that he had imagined death so much it felt more like a memory, so maybe he _had_ died, and Hydra had never found him. Tortured him. Maybe Steve wasn’t beside him, instead he was saving the world yet again, with Bucky forgotten, swirling in the dark of the Captains’ mind.

The pain from his wounds forced Bucky deeper into his mind, and further away from reality. The faces of those he’d killed on behalf of the unstoppable Hydra were waiting for him in the dark, waiting to get their revenge. _It’s no more than I deserve,_ he thought. _No more than I deserve._ The words churned, relentless in their torment, hours passed and the pain ebbed and flowed as he waited for something, _anything,_ to give him purpose again. The strangled cries of the dying were the only comfort in a world without light. _“Comfort?”_ oh how his mind had twisted if _that_ was his fabrication of safety. _Zhelaniye. Rzhavyy. Semnadtsat’. Rassvet._ the words danced behind his closed eyes. _Devyat’. Dobroserdechnyy. Vozvrashcheniye na rodinu. Odin. Gruzovoy vagon._

It could have been days later, or perhaps weeks, but finally he was dragged, screaming, back into the world. Doctors and nurses were rushing in the room that had been his prison and were crowding around Steve’s bed, like vultures circling their prey. T’Challa suddenly appeared and the staff parted to let him through. “Give him some space!” the King ordered as the wave parted and Bucky could see Steve again, who appeared to be gaining consciousness.  
“Steve,” Bucky called out, his voice weak with pain. “Steve!” Despite his agony, he couldn’t fight off the smile that spread on his face. He watched as Steve’s eyes slowly opened and his head lolled to his side so he was looking directly at him. “Steve,” Bucky’s voice was soft as he finally felt at peace.  
“I’m sorry,” spoke Steve, as his eyes locked with Bucky’s. “Who are you?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After discovering Steve's memory loss, Bucky shuts down. T'Challa tries to pretend that he doesn't care, yet he still calls Nat for help.

_“Who are you?”_ the words ringing in his ears, poisoning his blood, leaving his mind numb and his skin cold. Bucky must have blacked out because when his eyes opened again, the room was empty and all traces of Steve’s existence had disappeared. What caught his eye was the unexpected sight of T’Challa’s slumped figure in the doorway. After hearing the muffled sounds of Bucky coming to, he bristled, his back arching as though he’d been standing there for quite some time. He strode over to Bucky’s bed, seemingly without a care in the world, yet he could not hide the worry that seemed to seep through and pool in his chestnut eyes.

“Where is he?” Bucky asked weakly, his eyes downcast.  
“We took him to another room down the hall,” was the simple reply, voice ladened with a hint of sadness as he looked down at Bucky, still hooked up to the machines that circled him.  
“He–” Bucky paused as his voice threatened to reveal how broken he felt inside. He took a deep, shaky breath before continuing. “He doesn’t remember me.” Speaking those words felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. _“He doesn’t remember me.”_ After a few seconds of hesitation, T’Challa responded.  
“No, he doesn’t. But you can’t focus on that right now, you need to concentrate on healing so–”  
“So what?” Bucky spat. “I’m broken and the only person I’ve ever cared about doesn’t even remember my name!” he screamed, his words echoing around the empty room. Without another word, T’Challa disappeared into the shadows and Bucky was left alone, shouting into the empty abyss.

\------

“What’s going on? Where are you taking me?” Steve’s voice was filled with confusion as his bed was relocated to another room. “Who was that guy? Who are you?”  
“Relax, soldier. You’re among friends,” was T’Challa’s response. He’d seen Bucky’s face flash with pure terror before he’d blacked out as they had wheeled Steve away. “You appear to be suffering from amnesia. That’s a nasty wound you got there.”  
“But I don’t _know_ you! How did I get here? What happened?” T’Challa didn’t want to be forced to sedate him, but if he started to panic, he might not have a choice.  
“Calm down,” his soothing voice drifted, calming the look of fear in Steve’s face. “What’s the last thing you remember?”  
Steve inhaled deeply, as he trying to remember something, _anything,_ that would help him figure out what on _earth_ was going on.  
“I don’t know,” Steve replied, shaking his head. “I don’t know.” He whispered, his voice empty. 

\------

When T’Challa finally dared to step into Bucky’s room again, it was to let him know that there was no point in him being confined to the hospital bed any longer – the doctors were content with the rate that his injuries were healing. Despite this fact, Bucky had never been in more pain. The dull ache of his wounds were no comparison to the hole that had ripped through him. His mind felt numb – he couldn’t bear to think about Steve, it only hurt more. He knew he could leave now that he was healing, not that he had anywhere to go. Home had always been wherever Steve had been, but now? Home didn't exist. Home had vanished into the night, along with all of Steve’s memories.

After two weeks had passed, T’Challa was starting to worry. Although Bucky was free to come and go as he pleased, he hadn’t stepped one foot outside his room. He wasn’t eating. He wasn’t sleeping. He just continued to either lay in bed staring at the ceiling, or sit hunched over by the window, his unfocused eyes fixated on the same point with long strands of greasy hair shrouding his face instead of framing it. _Not that I noticed,_ thought T’Challa. _Not that I care,_ even though he knew it was a lie. 

T’Challa knew he didn’t have a way with people. He knew he couldn’t get Bucky to open up to him. _Hell, he didn’t even know how to try._ Luckily, he knew someone who did. It wasn’t long before Natasha’s commanding voice could be heard through the static on his phone.  
“What do you mean he doesn’t remember?” she asked, confusion filling her voice.  
“He tried to carry Bucky out but he blacked out. Fell and hit is head.” _Idiot._ “He would have died if I hadn’t been there,” snapped T’Challa. He let out a frustrated sign as his fingers scraped across his chin. “I don’t know how to talk to him–”  
“Who?” she cut in.  
“Either of them!” T’Challa retorted in despair. “What am I supposed to say Nat? Just tell Bucky that Steve doesn’t even know he exists? Tell Steve that, oh hey! This stranger, your _boyfriend,_ happens to be an assassin but don’t worry! Everything will be _fine–”_ he spat as Natasha interrupted him, yet again.  
“Tell Steve who he is! Tell him he’s a hero! Tell him he’s saved all our lives, countless times!”  
“Well he certainly hasn’t saved _mine,”_ mumbled T’Challa under his breath with a brief look of disgust.

“Tell him that it’s all worth fighting for. Tell him…” replied Natasha with a slight pause, “Bucky is worth fighting for.” Her voice growing softer with every word, until you can almost hear her smile sadly into the phone.  
“He doesn’t know who he is!” Cried T’Challa indignantly, “He doesn’t know who _Bucky_ is! He doesn’t know us, we’re all just strangers to him.”  
“He’s still Steve,” replied Natasha. “After everything he has done, for _all of us,_ he deserves to know the truth.” Said Natasha with a hint of finality, before her voice disappeared into the night, and yet again, T’Challa is left on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know, lot of angst, but come on, caring T'Challa (who tries and fails to pretend otherwise) is adorable, and Nat isn't putting up with any of it!! It's going to get worse before it gets better, but it will get lighter, I promise! (also no Hamilton reference this chapter, which is rather disappointing)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'Challa tries to convince Bucky to go see Steve, but Bucky feels that all Steve is going to see in him is a murderer.

“You need to talk to him.” Came the unexpected voice. Bucky’s lifeless eyes drifted towards the noise before they raked down, taking in T’Challa’s weary figure.  
“You look terrible.” Commented Bucky, his voice grating over the words. T’Challa walked over to the window where Bucky was standing to properly take in his appearance.  
“No, my friend. _You_ look terrible–”  
“You’re not my friend.” Bucky cut in, his eyes returning to the world outside his room. T’Challa paused, a look of pain crossing his face before he continued.  
“You need to eat–”  
“I have been eating–”  
“You need to eat _more._ And sleep _more._ You look like hell, son–”  
“Don’t call me son–”  
“You need to take care of yourself.” T’Challa pleaded, as Bucky turned to face him. The sun streaming through the window now seemed to radiate around him, enveloping him in a golden, almost threatening, glow.  
“Steve needs you alive, son, we all need you alive–”  
“Call me son one more time–!” Bucky yelled, his eyes filled with fire as the light around him seemed to scorch the threatening words that tumbled from his lips. T’Challa’s outstretched hand hovered millimetres above Bucky’s shoulder before it dropped to his side. He spun and strode across the room, however he lingered in the doorway for a few moments.  
“Go home,” said T’Challa without glancing back at Bucky, his voice drained of any emotion. “He doesn’t know you. Unless, you want him to. Then you know where to find him.” He said before he disappeared, closing the door behind him as Bucky sank to his knees, cradling his head in his hands with silent tears streaming down his face.

\------

Bucky didn’t know how much time had passed before he dragged himself into the bathroom. His eyes stared into the monster glaring back at him, but there was no trace of recognition. As he stepped into the shower and let the warm water pour over him, he couldn’t help but contemplate what was going to happen to him when he saw Steve again. How was he supposed to look into the eyes of the man he loved, when that man had forgotten every trace of him? When Bucky finally left his room, his hand was shaking. _Dying was easy,_ he thought as he clutched at the doorknob on Steve’s door. _This is harder._ Bucky leant against the door as it swung open and when his eyes rested on Steve, his breath caught in his throat. Everything about him looked normal, _safe,_ but when Steve’s eyes reached his, that’s when he realised something was different. His eyes, the delicate colour of forget-me-nots, no-longer shone. They were not Steve’s eyes.

In the chair beside him, sat T’Challa. He stood quickly before brushing past Bucky as he left the room and Bucky’s eyes uncomfortably dropped to the floor. He walked gingerly over to the chair that had been previously occupied and sank into it as though he wished for it to swallow him whole. His eyes twitched up to meet Steve’s before they returned to the floor, his hand trembling where it clutched the arm of the chair.  
“I know who you are,” Steve said softly, as Bucky’s head jerked up to meet his gaze. “T’Challa told me about you.” Bucky felt the flare of hope die down again which was replaced with dread at the thought of Steve seeing him as nothing more than a murderer.  
“What did he tell you?” he asked, his gravelly voice creating a shiver down Steve’s spine, although Steve wasn’t sure why. Bucky’s hand ran through his hair to push it out of his face and Steve noticed it shaking before it returned to grip the chair.

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, you were born on the 10th of March, 1917. You were drafted into the army and were ambushed by the Nazis at Azzano. You were then taken by HYDRA, before you were rescued by _Captain America.”_ he said with a small grimace, before continuing.  
“In 1944, we were on a mission. They blew a hole in the side of the train… I couldn’t save you. _He_ couldn’t save you.  
“You’re still him.” Bucky said as he sat forward so he was closer to Steve – he could almost feel the warmth radiating off him.  
“HYDRA found you,” Steven continued as if he hadn’t heard. “They tortured you. _Experimented_ on you. They wiped all your memories and controlled you to kill for them.” At these words, it was no longer Bucky’s hand that was shaking, his whole body trembled with a mix of anger and fear.  
“Then you know I’m a monster.” Bucky said as he shot up from his chair, his hand clenched by his side.  
“I know that you’ve killed a lot of people. _I’ve killed a lot of people._ But that doesn’t define who you are. I didn’t care then and I don’t care now.”  
“Well you should care Steve! You should care that I can’t sleep at night without seeing the faces of all the people I’ve killed! You should care that you’re a hero Steve, and I’m not! You should care about the fact that the person I love doesn’t even remember my name!” Steve’s mouth dropped open as Bucky’s last few words echoed around him, his screams bouncing off the walls.  
“James–” Steve said, his arm reaching out for him, before he noticed Bucky stumbling backwards, a look on his face as though he’d been punched. Bucky blindly reached out for the door before he let it slam shut behind him, drowning out the word ringing in his ears. _James._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another two Hamilton references.. I'm not even sorry !!! I hope you will enjoy this chapter and I promise it's uphill from here! (there will still be a bit of angst but their relationship will get better!)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky feel their relationship mending. Steve falls victim to a fever, but he's lucky that he has his Bucky by his side to mop his fevered brow ;)

Bucky could sense a presence without turning around from where he’d resumed his stance at the window in his room. The layer of glass separating him from the peaceful forest outside only left him feeling more isolated than ever, yet he instantly felt at ease when Steve’s soft breathing interrupted the unforgiving silence. If he had turned around at that moment, he would have seen Steve’s young face crease with a frown as his eyes glanced at Bucky’s still-healing wounds. When Bucky did turn to meet Steve’s gaze, the frown had disappeared and instead a comforting smile took its place. Steve leant against the door with an effortless grace as his fingers pushed his hair off his forehead.

“Hello,” he spoke tentatively and Bucky noted his eyes were once more starting to shine like they used to.  
“Hi,” Bucky responded, his gaze lowering to the floor nervously. Steve had to stop himself from walking over to him and lifting his head so he could stare into his beautifully haunted gaze that made the world seem to spin. He didn’t know what it was about him, but every fibre in his being fought to envelop him and feel his strong arm wrap around his waist. _Stop it,_ he thought to himself. _This is crazy, you don’t even know him._

Bucky, noticing Steve’s confidence faltering, gestured for him to join him by the window. As Steve stood beside him, Bucky could feel the warmth radiate from him as his golden hair glowed in the sunlight. “I’m sorry about yesterday.” Steve said as his tore his eyes from Bucky to follow his gaze into the misty trees below them.  
“Why? You have nothing to apologise for. I shouldn’t have said what I did.” Bucky stated simply with a sense of finality. They stood together in silence as the minutes passed by.  
“The truth is, this is very difficult for me.” Steve spoke as he turned to face Bucky. “I can’t remember anything, yet when I look at you, I know you. I feel safe.” Bucky could feel Steve’s breath on his face from the distance that seemed to have disappeared between them. Bucky’s mouth turned dry as the words left him reeling.  
“This is really difficult for me, but I didn’t stop to think how it was affecting you–”  
“You need to focus on yourself. You don’t need to worry about me.” Bucky said jokingly as he smirked. “I can take care of myself.”  
“Sure you can.” Steve laughed as his body swayed. His hand automatically gripped Bucky’s shoulder to steady himself, a pained look flashing across his face. Bucky’ pivoted as his hand instantly grabbed Steve’s waist to support him. Steve’s head came to rest on Bucky’s shoulder as a tsunami of pain washed over him, leaving his body trembling and his knees weak.

A few moments passed until the pain subsided, yet Steve didn’t let go of where he clutched Bucky’s shoulder and waist. Bucky could feel the warm breath dance across his skin from where Steve’s head was cradled in the crook of Bucky’s neck, as a soft whimper escaped Steve’s lips. Panic flooded Steve’s body and Bucky’s hand stroked Steve’s hair in an attempt to calm him down. “It’s okay,” Bucky whispered. “I’m not letting you go.” Once Steve regained some composure, they began the journey down the hall to Steve’s room. Nurses came rushing to aid Bucky as they lifted Steve back into his bed and doctors flurried like snowflakes in a blizzard around him. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?” Queried Bucky as he tried to control his rising panic. His question was greeted with one of the nurses pushing him towards the door whilst speaking in a language that Bucky was not familiar with. As he stumbled out into the hall the door slammed shut, preventing him from seeing Steve’s twitching form yet the humming of the commotion inside seemed to follow him as he made the journey to his room alone.

\------

The next morning, Bucky returned to Steve’s door. He pushed it open a fraction to reveal the sight of T’Challa talking to one of the doctors beside Steve’s unconscious form. The hinges on the door creaked to disclose Bucky’s location and T’Challa’s head snapped up. He beckoned for Bucky join him and Bucky quickly crossed the floor, brushing past the King and instead hovered above Steve, his hand gripping Steve’s. T’Challa tutted at Bucky’s behaviour but decided to move on, instead of angering him further. “He has a fever,” T’Challa stated, as he watched Bucky stand protectively in front of Steve. “It is nothing for you to be worried about soldier.”  
“He’s so hot.” Bucky noted as his hand came to rest on Steve’s forehead. Bucky heard T’Challa snort behind him yet when Bucky turned and their eyes met, all emotion had yet again been masked.  
“He will be fine. He just needs to rest.” With that, T’Challa elegantly sauntered out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Bucky noticed a sheen of sweat coating Steve’s body and his blond hair curling against his forehead. He walked over to bathroom and returned with a cold towel which he dabbed at Steve’s skin. He heard Steve stir as Bucky peered down at him. Steve’s eyes opened briefly before they closed again, his face scrunching to block out the light. “James,” he whispered raspily. Bucky tried to ignore the word as it threatened to tear him apart.  
“I’m here, you’re going to be fine.” He assured Steve, who lay almost unmoving, only the rise and fall of his chest showing any sign of life. Steve’s lips were parted as his breaths shuddered through them and Bucky wiped the towel along his cheekbones and jawline.   
“Thank you,” Steve murmured as his head rolled to the side where the back of Bucky’s hand rested against his cheek. “T’Challa said that you could have left, but you decided to stay with a person who doesn’t remember you. Why?” Steve questioned drowsily, his eyes half-lidded. Bucky’s lips twitched into a small smile as he replied.  
“There was this little guy from Brooklyn. He was too dumb not to run away from a fight.” He said with a laugh that made small wrinkles appear around his eyes. “I guess I'm still following him.” Bucky’s eyes met Steve’s as he stared longingly, before he let his hand fall to his side. “I should probably let him get some sleep.” Bucky said with a wink as he placed the towel on the bedside table and left, closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Hamilton references this time, sorry to disappoint!! I hope this chapter is a bit sweeter than the last few (painful) chapters!! Their relationship is definitely on the mend! I look forward to reading your comments and suggestions :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky wakes Steve up from a nightmare and comforts him. T'Challa calls Natasha who arranges for herself and Sam to visit.

Steve felt as though his heart was about to burst out of his chest. He could hear the blood rushing through his ears as a strong arm prevented him from sitting upright. “Hey, you okay?” whispered Bucky as he watched Steve struggling to catch his breath. He had noticed Steve thrashing in his sleep and had woken him up, saving him from his nightmare.  
“Yeah,” Steve puffed as he pushed his blonde hair out of his eyes. “I’m sorry–”  
“You really need to stop apologising.” Bucky grinned, as he flopped into the chair beside Steve, whose eyes had dropped Bucky’s gaze. “What happened?” Bucky queried, concern filling his voice. He pushed himself forward so he was sitting on the edge of the chair and was leaning forward, his knees only centimetres away from the bed. Steve took a few laboured breaths before his eyes tentatively reached Bucky’s.

“I don’t think it was a memory,” Steve started, his voice low. “It wasn’t anything specific. It was too…” he paused, “too frantic. Blurred. We were in an alley, and there were a bunch of guys surrounding us. They started swinging punches, you tried to fight back, but I was just stood there. Frozen to the spot. I didn’t know what to do.” Steve’s eyes returned to his hands as his voice began to shake. “They just kept hitting you, over and over again, and I didn’t do anything. The next minute I knew, you were gone. You just vanished and I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t save you–” Steve’s voice broke as tears welled in his eyes, threatening to roll down his face.  
“Hey,” Bucky whispered as he reached out, taking one of Steve’s hands in his own. “It’s okay. You’re safe, _I’m safe._ We’re okay, you just need to take it easy. You’ve still got a fever, just rest and don’t worry about me.”  
“I’m so–”  
“If you apologise one more time,” Bucky threatened as he laughed, giving Steve’s hand a small squeeze. Steve laughed as he shook his head, however Bucky noted that the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“It’s just…” Bucky started as the grin slowly left his face. “I just don’t understand why you still think I’m worth saving.” Bucky gave Steve a small smile before he rose from where he was sat. His arm stretched out momentarily as though to caress Steve’s cheek before he changed his mind, his hand dropping to rest on Steve’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t blame you if all you see is a killer. _I am a killer._ I just wish you could remember all the good times.” Bucky could feel the heat radiating off Steve and involuntarily took a small step forward, swaying into him. His hand slid slightly upwards so his fingertips brushed over Steve’s skin, his palm pressed against the soft fabric of his shirt. Steve’s eyes never left Bucky’s as his breath hitched in his throat and Bucky could swear he could feel Steve’s pulse quicken under his touch.

Bucky watched Steve’s lips part slightly however his actions were cut short by the door being flung open dramatically, causing Bucky to jump back and stumble, tripping over the foot of the chair and subsequently falling in to it. Bucky peered out from under the hair that had flopped into his face, pouting as Steve chuckled to himself. The door that had slammed open revealed T’Challa, a wicked smirk coated his face as he mocked apology, already sauntering into the room. Before he had reached the chair at Steve’s bedside Bucky had shot up, stretching his spine in the attempt to seem like he had the upper hand. As T’Challa closed the distance between them, his cold eyes sent a shiver up Bucky’s spine, replacing the warmth that Steve had created. “As you were,” sneered T’Challa, gesturing towards the door. Bucky huffed as he slid past him, glancing reassuringly back at Steve before closing the door behind him.

“What’s going on between you two?” Steve teased, gesturing towards the door. “I’m guessing you don’t like him very much..?” he queried hesitantly.  
“On the contrary,” T’Challa replied briskly, before his eyes seemed to soften. “I’m concerned that he’s relying on you too much. The fact that none of your memories have yet surfaced suggests that your amnesia could be permanent.” T’Challa said as he took a step towards the empty chair, however thought better of it and continued, angled away from Steve so his face wasn’t in full view. “I don’t think he fully realises how different things are yet.” He concluded, before spinning on his heel and striding purposefully towards the door. His hand gripped the doorknob, however he turned slightly so his eyes met Steve’s. “Just be careful.” He whispered, before he too disappeared and Steve was left alone with his thoughts. 

\------

After leaving Steve’s room, T’Challa wound up on the rooftop of the facility. His royal gaze cast over the vast forest that surrounded them, yet any peace and quiet was interrupted by the harsh shrill of his phone ringing. He noticed the caller ID and let out a sigh of relief before answering. “Natasha, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he drawled before he smiled upon hearing her laugh at the other end.  
“What’s going on T’Challa? Has he remembered anything?” T’Challa’s smile faltered as he heard the desperate tone in Natasha’s voice.  
“No, not yet. My staff think that the amnesia is permanent.” He informed, sighing as he perched on the ledge of the building. There was a significant pause before Natasha replied.  
“We need to see him–”  
“I don’t think that’s the best idea Nat.”  
“Well why not? If he sees us it could trigger his memories and–”  
“Natasha, listen to me.” T’Challa said, raising his tone as Natasha fell silent. “Whether we like it or not, we can’t rely on Steve being on our side going forward,” Natasha made an undignified noise yet T’Challa ignored her. “If he doesn’t remember who he’s fighting with or what he’s fighting for, we can’t expect him to fight at all.” He paused, waiting for Natasha to interrupt yet when he was greeted with silence, he continued, his voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “But you should have seen him with Bucky.”  
“Did they–?”  
“What? No!” T’Challa exclaimed quickly, spluttering as he heard Natasha howling with laughter. T’Challa let a smile slip onto his face as he listened to her giggle into the phone, letting her tough exterior fall away.  
“Just try and keep their hands off each other,” Nat chuckled before the seriousness filtered back into her voice. “Sam and I are coming to see him, no matter what you say. We’ll see you soon.” Natasha stated before the line fell silent. T’Challa picked himself up from where he sat, brushing invisible dust from his clothes before pocketing his phone. He realised that despite being King, once Natasha had set her mind to something, no one could stop her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter!! I'm heading into exam block next week so I don't know how much I'm going to be able to get done, but we'll see! I hope you enjoy this chapter, feel free to leave me comments on what you liked/didn't like, and if you have any suggestions going forward! Have a great week :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Sam arrive and have to re-introduce themselves to Steve.

“Trouble sleeping?” came a soft voice from the shadowy corner of the room. Steve’s fever had broken overnight and the last thing he wanted to do was stay in a hospital bed for another second. Every fibre in his being was itching to move so after wandering the facility for a few hours, he found himself situated in front of a punching bag. The gym wasn’t big, but it was empty and it gave him some time by himself just to think. And, of course, get a few good swings in. With each punch however, he noted that despite not having any memories of learning to fight, his muscle memory was still there. Steve let his eyes glance towards the voice as he threw another two good hits that connected with the centre of the bag.

"It seems you haven’t managed to forget _that?”_ the voice jested, as a woman emerged from the shadows. Steve continued to land punches and only turned to acknowledge the other presence when a hand came to rest on his shoulder. At the touch, Steve jerked backwards slightly, bringing his fists up between them. “Woah, easy partner,” she smiled as she raised her arms in a mock surrender, noting the bruising that was forming on Steve’s knuckles. “You know there are gloves for that?” she teased as she gestured towards the mirrored cupboard that ran the length of the opposing wall.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Steve asked, making sure to keep his distance.  
“T’Challa didn’t tell you?” she questioned, confusing filtering into her voice. Steve took a step back to sweep his gaze over her, connecting the dots as to her identity. Her green eyes seemed to pierce his soul, her sunset orange hair flowing in loose curls over her shoulders.  
“Right, you must be Natasha.” Steve stated, dropping his fists to his side as he extended an arm to shake her hand. Instead, she lunged at him, her arms wrapping around his neck as Steve was forced to stumble backwards. However, his arms stayed limp at his sides.  
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she whispered, before she untangled herself. “Please, call me Nat.” she smiled softly as she noticed the trepidation in his gaze. An awkward moment of silence passed between them, before Natasha spoke up again.

“I know you have a lot of questions. T’Challa has filled in what he could, but he doesn’t know you like I do.”  
“Like you did,” Steve said quietly, making sure his eyes didn’t meet her gaze.  
“Like I _do,”_ Natasha stressed, her arm reaching out to rest on Steve’s shoulder again. “You might not realise, but you’re the same man you’ve always been.”  
“Except now I’m a fugitive, not a wanted saviour, correct?” Steve stated harshly, as he unleashed a few more swings on the punching bag.  
“That’s not who you are. That isn’t how we see you, that’s what matters.”  
“Is it? I don’t know you! I don’t know any of you, not even James–”  
_“James?!”_  
“And I don’t know what you want from me.” Steve concluded, almost as though he didn’t hear Natasha’s interruption. Natasha’s open mouth snapped shut as she nodded slowly.  
“Follow me.” She ordered, sharply turning on her heels and striding out of the room, leaving Steve no choice but to follow.

Natasha took off as though she knew her way through the winding and never-ending corridors. Steve, on the other hand, followed blindly, hoping that she actually _did_ know where she was going. Soon enough, they came across a flight of stairs that led up to the rooftop. When Natasha opened the door, the loud commotion that was occurring beyond it filled Steve’s ears as they began to climb. Although the words were muffled, Steve could distinctly hear two voices, one of them belonging to someone he knew. When they began to reach the top of the staircase, Steve could finally make out what they were saying.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’ve been a bit _busy_ lately being a hunted-down fugitive and what-not!”  
“If you care about him as much as you claim, you would have been here–”  
“Just because I’m not sleeping with him doesn’t mean I don’t care–”  
“Yet you only turn up now? Yeah you’re a _great_ friend–”  
“You better be glad he isn’t here otherwise–”  
“Otherwise what?”  
“Jesus _I don’t know_ Buck. Just remember that he’s my friend too–”

 _Buck?_ Steve thought to himself but before he had time to question Natasha about it, she had flung the door open to reveal the two, no three, people on the rooftop.  
“About time, Nat! I was getting ready to throw these two squabbling idiots off the roof.” T’Challa sighed exasperatedly, gesturing towards the tired faces of Bucky, and another, swarthy man who Steve assumed was Sam.  
“Woah calm down man, he’s the one who you were trying to kill originally, not me–”  
“Sam!” snapped Natasha  
“Yeah?”  
“Shut up.”  
“Gotcha.” After a few seconds of silence and an eye roll from Natasha, Steve stepped forward and extended a hand to Sam. Luckily, Sam took it in his own, instead of jumping on him like Natasha had done. “You look good.” Sam stated as he smiled reassuringly at Steve, allowing his gleaming teeth to shine in the afternoon sun.  
“Thanks, I’m sorry I don’t remember you,” Steve apologised as he motioned towards the rest of the group.  
“That’s why we’re here,” Natasha stated simply. “We need to know if we’ve still got you on our side.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6!!! Sorry I haven't posted in a few weeks, I've been sick (which wasn't a great idea as rescheduling exams in year 12 is not a fun process). The next chapter will cover Steve's future role in the Avengers, and then we might see a surprise visit from Tony Stark in the chapter after that ;) There might only be three/four chapters left so I hope you enjoy! Feel free to leave a comment or visit my tumblr @breakingeverysingleheartbutone


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